Page 55 of Saving Sparrow
“I’m not the one who starts s-h-i-t,” Quentin amended, spelling it out. “I think we need to make an announcement in the nextPanthers Gazetteletting everyone know Elliott is under my protection.” The Panther was the football team’s nickname and school mascot.
“Oh, do you now, Mr. McAllen? Well, why stop there? Why not have it announced on the six o’clock news too?”
“Even better,” Quentin replied, unbothered by Mr. Hayward’s sarcasm. If I weren’t so shaken up and scared, I would’ve laughed. Miguel chuckled for both of us.
Mr. Hayward sighed, looking like he’d aged a decade in the last ten minutes.
“Elliott’s our friend. We won’t stand by and let a bunch of bigoted dic—dimwits,” he corrected when the principal looked ready to explode, “mess with him.”
Mr. Hayward sat back in his seat, digging through his drawer and pulling out a packet of Tums. “Duly noted, Mr. McAllen. I’ll have a talk with Mr. Delaney and his cronies. You just do your best to stay out of trouble. I don’t need Coach Saxton breathing down my neck because I dared to treat you like I would any other disruptive student.”
We waited quietly while he chewed half a pack of antacids.
“Go, get out of here,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I’ve had enoughfor one day.”
Quentin drove us to their house, even after I told him I wanted to be dropped off at home. I wasn’t even sure if it was my home anymore. My aunt hadn’t kicked me out yet, but she hadn’t been home since we signed the papers either. She’d likely remember she needed to get rid of me for good after the initial high of being rich without court-imposed limits wore off a little.
I ended up jumping out of the car, slamming my door shut, and running through the woods. Quentin shouting my name echoed through the trees, but he didn’t follow me. I was sure I had Miguel to thank for that.
I spent hours thinking until I’d made up my mind that I wouldn’t go back. I’d get my GED and stay at Quentin and Miguel’s house alone during the day while they were at school. That would mean spendinghourswithout them. The thought made me sick to my stomach. But I wouldn’t survive another day like today, not even with Quentin and Miguel protecting me.
I wasn’t prepared for a world like this. I was too used to a life of seclusion. A life where no one knew I existed, not even the God I couldn’t stop praying to. Not even my parents. All they ever saw was something broken that needed to be fixed, and now I was supposed to behave like I was normal? Like I wasn’t different from everyone else?
It wasn’t Quentin and Miguel’s fault, though, so later that night, after trying and failing to get to sleep, I realized I needed them. Or mayberememberedwas the best word for it.
I thought about texting them that I was on my way over. In my last text, I’d told them I needed time to think, and that I’d see them tomorrow. Were they upset with me? Quentin must be losing his mind.
I decided I’d surprise them, hurrying out of bed to change my clothes. One single thought drove me as I raced to them.
I need them…
I need them…
I need them…
Entering the house, I took the stairs several at a time, ignoring the pain in my shin when I tripped up the last few. I just needed them to hold me. I needed to fall asleep between the only people who ever took care of me.
Approaching the bedroom door, I froze at Miguel’s shouts.
“Stop!”
Were they arguing? Were they arguing because of me?
“Quentin, I said stop.” Glass shattered, and without hesitating, I rushed through the door. What I saw changed everything. What I saw changedme.
Miguel
Now
The physical pain of Sparrow dragging me down the hall by my hair was almost as excruciating as the rug burn setting fire to my exposed skin. I tried crawling to keep up but kept tripping as he picked up speed.
I fell onto my side, losing my glasses, then screamed in agony as he crouched and adjusted his grip before continuing to haul me along. The skin on my palms was raw, and the heels of my bare feet burned as I attempted to dig them into the carpet.
“Fuck!” The tearing sensation along my scalp felt like nails scraping across my brain. A clump of hair rolled down my cheek. “Sparrow,” I panted, flipping onto all fours again. He lost his grip on me, and my face crashed into the floor. I scrambled to my feet, backing away as blood trickled down my forehead.
“Let me explain,” I cried as he stalked toward me, his chest heaving, teeth bared. Sparrow grabbed me by the throat, spinning me around before backing me toward the bedroom. I stumbled, nearly taking us both to the floor. But his grip was unyielding, his strength inhuman.
I tamped down the fight response surging inside of me. It felt primal, involuntary, and it took everything in me to go against it. My goal was bigger than staying alive, bigger than trying to save myself. If I had to die to prove my love to Sparrow, then I would. I wouldn’t raise a hand against him in violence.
